


Got me all figured out

by orphan_account



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Fate & Destiny, Fatherly Geoff, Gay Sex, M/M, Magical Tattoos, Mavin, Multi, brief mentions of loss of virginity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-30
Updated: 2014-07-13
Packaged: 2018-02-06 20:11:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1870863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on the tumblr prompt: what if tattoos just randomly appeared on our skin at key points in our lives and we had to figure out what they meant for ourselves. </p><p>Michael has no tattoos until he does. Until he has like-- a fuckton, woah.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Daddy Geoff's Life Talk

**Author's Note:**

> So uh, I'm kinda unsure about this. //.\\\ Also, hi! This is my first RT fanfic so please feel free to comment on the awfulness of the characterization if its there. Also I'm dammitb on tumblr if you'd like to yell at me there.

When Michael was young there was nothing more interesting to question adults on than their tattoos. The splotches of color were the thing his eyes gravitated to on everyone he met, and their stories intrigued him even further. His parents would blush, mutter to their friends about him going through an inquisitive phase, but for the most part his questions were met with small smiles about how i met the strangest young man on the tube and, or, I read this thing and suddenly it all made sense; however on some occasions he would get a shrug and a small i’m still waiting, little man. His general obsession with the ink only grew over time, from learning the little bit of history and science behind them, to asking his friends if they’d gotten any at least once a month. 

Ray had been the first in his group to get one, a small box on the inside of his hipbone-- and a month later their podcast had been formed-- the Internet Box. It had been torturous for Ray to wait, and Michael had been right there with him. It seemed like just the next day another friend got hers, a spilled cup of coffee on her forearm. She’d run into a beautiful girl near 8 months later, spilling a mocha all over her. The next few years of highschool were filled with people getting tattoos, bright flowers or TV screens, a bird or a bridge. Most days Michael woke up and inspected himself, but to no avail. After awhile it seemed masochism to keep looking and Michael went from almost rudely inquisitive to uncaring. If he never got a fucking tattoo that’d be fine with him. 

His life went on, he got a job, kept doing the internet thing on the side, maybe had a tad too much pent up frustration but, oh well. Besides it has been that very rage that landed him where he was now knee deep in rage quit edits, and chilling with the best friends he’d ever had. Ray was still there, still being an asshole-- he’d only gained 3 or 4 more tattoos, and knew better than to bring up Michael's lack thereof.

Michael couldn’t help but marvel at Geoff; absolutely covered in tattoos from head to toe. And he’d finally worked up the courage to ask about them. “So, dude; how’d you get such a fuck ton of tatts? I mean a few is normal but you’re fucking ridiculous.” 

Geoff squinted down at Michael and rubbed his arms a bit sheepishly, “Well, Michael my boy, I think you should sit down. It’s time we had the Daddy Geoff Life Talk.”

“Oh my god Geoff fuck off I’m being serious!” Michael sat down, despite his huffy protests, and crossed his arms mulishly. 

“Alright, now that you’re comfortable princess. Anyway, I got my first one at 10, when I was just learning what they really were-- and it was a chainsaw. Do you know how fucking cool I was on the playground Michael? Do you? I was cool as dicks-- everybody wanted to be my friend. In fact--”

“Geoff no, get on with it please.” Micheal prepared himself for a long butt-numbing conversation. He was interested, but he did not want to deal with Geoff’s hour long side stories.   
“Fine, fine. Uh, okay, so! That tattoo was on me for so long I pretty much forgot it was there, went about my life-- I got into some tough shit. Some of my tattoos came as warnings, and they’ve never steered me wrong before. But, I was a stupid shithead, and I got into this shitty gang thing-- and when I started doing drug deals that chainsaw started to fade away.” At Michael’s shocked expression he nodded. “Yeah,I know right, crazy shit. But it started to fade and I knew that if I kept doing that fuckery I was going to lose out on the thing my fate had been planning for years. So I straightened the fuck out-- grades went up, all that. And when I left highschool the tattoos came pouring in-- you know why?”

“What is this a test,” Michael raised a judgemental eyebrow and shrugged at Geoff’s eyeroll. “No, I don’t fucking know. Share your knowledge oh-so-wise-one,” he sassed. 

“Fuck you, the fucking point is that when I got out of school I didn’t know shit. The tattoos became a guidebook, I got them because I didn’t know what the fuck I was doing, so settle down with the brooding bullshit about not having any, because apparently fate thinks you're doing a bangin’ job all by yourself you dumb fuck.” 

Michael sat back in his chair and closed his eyes. Doing alright huh? It sure didn’t feel that way. Sure he had a bitchin’ job, and he wasn’t in any sort of peril emotionally-- but he felt a bit empty, like he was a snowglobe and you’d filled him with water and nothing else. “Thanks Geoff.” He still felt like shit, but it was lighter now, at bay. 

“No problem dickhead. Now get back to work, we’ve got an hour or so until we can fuck outta here.” 

“Aye, Aye, Captin’.”   
~  
The day had been short after that, and he’d been in bed at what seemed the blink of an eye. Michael was restless however, still thinking about his conversation with Geoff. He tossed and turned thinking about how the divine universe thought he had his shit to together when he could go barely an hour without wondering what was missing from his admittedly pretty fucking great life. 

There was no answer from said universe, and eventually Michael fell into a fitful sleep, dreaming in the way he knew that there was not only darkness, however he was unable to see anything of recognition through the murk of his vision. He woke to a strange fluttering feeling-- and he rushed out of bed, stripped naked like he’d used to inspecting every part of his body for something other than milk white and freckles. Nothing was there though, and he sighed. It was pretty fucking miserable being him sometimes, Michael thought. 

However, although he’d not gained a tattoo, a semblance of the strange flutter remained throughout his morning routine. Something felt impending and he didn't fucking like it.


	2. Eyes up ahead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Those fuckton of tatts start pouring in.

“Lllllllllet’s stop!,” Jack shouted, stretching. He stood and highfived Ryan on the grounds of his win, smiling and asking about going to a bar. “What about you Michael? You in?” 

Before Michael could get a word in Geoff interrupted, “Hold on a second, I’ve still got shit to say. Now, we’ve come a long way from where we started, so i’ve decided to hire a new employee. He’ll be here tomorrow, so just, be gentle with the boy.” 

“Tomorrow? Isn’t that a bit soon? None of us have even met the guy yet,” Ryan reasoned. Ray nodded in agreement and Michael rolled his eyes. It was like they were an elitist club of school children. 

“Yeah, well he had visa trouble for awhile, so I decided to keep it between Matt and I. Look he’s already hired; so get those pouty ass looks off of your faces.”

Ray gave some sort of flail,and a thumbs up “alright, new friends, awesome,” before going about his packing up. 

“Now, about those drinks? How about it Michael?” Ryan implored, raising his eyebrows a bit devilishly. 

“To be honest I’m feeling lazy right now, so thats a no Ryan. You guys have fun though, be sure to call someone if you need a ride.” 

With that he straightened up his desk, waving to the guys before taking his leave. Honestly he was feeling lazy, but more so he still felt a bit down from that morning. Work had provided an ample distraction, but now that it was over he felt a bit at loss. He resolved to keep his mind off the tattoos, hard to do when they surrounded him at every turn. 

Once at home, he plopped down on his couch, determined to distract himself with trashy reality tv. Some show about horrible kids was on the channel he’d turned to, and Michael rolled his eyes. “I honestly cannot catch a fucking break,” he sighed. The young boy on the screen looked no older than fourteen, but half-sleeves covered each arm, and he was lifting his shirt to show the few accumulated on his back. Eyes focused on the tattoos his mind went back to what Geoff said about them being a guide-- it would make sense then, that this boy would have so many.  
“whatever,” Michael mumbled falling into bed after a shower. “I don’t give a shit.”  
~

He woke up the next morning with a black cloud hanging over his head. The started dreadfully from not having any coffee, to not having any clean tshirts, and the final straw: not having enough time to rub one out. It was understandable that after all this peril he’d be a bit tetchy. So when he’d run into some lanky douche whilst walking into the office you couldn’t blame him for snapping. 

“Did you even look before you decided to barrel into me? What the fuck?! Do you have eyes?!” He shoved past the body and flipped the middle finger before continuing his storm into the office. “Fucking bullshit. Geoff, do you even check the mental capacity of our interns?”

Geoff turned to his voice with a tight-lipped smile and gestured for him to sit. “Okay now that everyone is here, it’s time to introduce the new guy!” He walked to the door and waited a moment before pulling a--stupid big nosed lanky idiot--into the room. “This,” he gestured to the twink, jesus christ, “is Gavin. Play nicely. Now i’ve got a meeting so go about your stuff until I’m back. We’re doing something a little new.” With that he took his leave, waving goodbye and giving Gavin an encouraging smile. 

Michael grit his teeth but tried to smile, he could keep his anger at bay--seriously, he could. But, the boy seemed to have other ideas. “So you’re Rage Quit! I’m a big fan, and sorry about running into you this morning; its been a crazy day, as you can probably guess. I’m really--”  
“Yeah, ok.” Michael cut in, trying to maneuver past the boy and out of the room. Of course he’s fucking british, of course. 

“Oh, uh sorry, I’ll just--” Gavin tripped, falling unto the boy a second time. In the midst of the fall he scrambled for a purchase but found only the hem of Michael’s top stretching it open. The commotion had caught the eyes of the other Achievement Hunters’ and Ray chortled softly. 

“Jesus fucking christ--again? Fucking seriously?! Get off of me you fuck!” Michael gave Gavin a rough shove sending him into the doorframe with a resounding thwack, accompanied by a high pitched squawk. “Oh shit, sorry, sorry, fucking christ.” 

“It’s fine mate, honestly, i’m just a bit banged up is all.” He smiled, but was obviously in pain, when his eyes opened they were a bit misty, but really fucking beautiful. 

 

Michael shook the thought from his brain and nodded, “Well alright then, I’m still sorry, been having a rough week. We good?” Now was not the time to thinking about some boys fucking eyeballs, he was fucking losing it. 

“Of course we’re good Micool! You’re my boi!” The brit smiled brightly and bounced up, all nervous energy once again. 

“Right,” Michael drew out, “don’t say my name like that, and i’m not your boy, jesus.” Michael tried to get up, but a pair of tan hands halted his movement. “Uh--” 

“Wow, when’d you get this Micool? They’re bloody beautiful!” He’d placed his fingers on Michael’s collarbone, now visible with the stretch of his shirt. 

“What?” Michael probably stepped on the other’s fingers in his rush to get up and get to the bathroom, but he needed to see what the idiot was talking about. He didn’t bother closing the door, instantly ripping his top off-- a strangled noise came from the doorframe but he wasn’t in the right mind to be abashed at the moment. Right where the british man had placed his fingers were eyes. Eyes surrounded by angles and swooping leafs, looking stained and wet. “Holy shit,” he muttered. The tattoo had no color, but didn’t stop there, the lashes of leaves turned into a roaring sky blue wave hitting a deep obsidian stone. “Holy shit,” he repeated, baffled. 

“Are you okay?” The voice was not Gavin’s, but Geoff’s, calm and reasonable even though Michael’s brain was moving a mile a minute. A soothing hand rubbed the skin of his shoulder, and Michael began to relax. 

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” he assured. “But, uh, Geoff? Do I have anymore?” He turned his back to the man and waited-- that same flutter from before rolling around in his gut. 

“Yeah, actually. You’ve got a comic book box right...here.” Geoff’s warm fingers touched the patch of skin all the way right just before the waistband of his pants. Michael was--he didn't actually know what he was. Happy? Not really. Fulfilled? Not at all. 

“Well at least it’s not a tramp stamp!” Ray’s voice rang out from behind Geoff, and he laughed at his own joke. Fucking dork, Michael thought, a tad unkindly. Geoff seemed to sense nothing good was going to come of them staying around the bathroom and ordered them back to work. 

Michael was basically checked out for the rest of the day, unable to think about anything but his newfound ink and what it could possibly mean. Gavin continued to be annoying, but by the end of the day he found it more funny than anything. He even stopped yelling at the butchering of his name, and the claim of him being ‘Gavin’s Boi’ throughout the newfangled Minecraft lets play. 

He went to sleep with the thought of his tattoos; not before checking his entire body for more. While he lay in bed Michael tried to wrangle his storm of emotions into one thing, but they were torn somewhere between confused and anxious. He eventually fell into sleep, periodically waking up with a sense he’d dreamed in vivid blues and greens, but unable to remember anything other than that. This whole week was turning into a slow, dragging, unsettling dream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> collarbone tatt based on this http://carnegriff.deviantart.com/art/New-work-in-progress-396911003 picture, also a MASSIVE THANK YOU to everyone who bookmarked/review/gave kudos it honesly means a ton! Okay you may bye now *smooches*


	3. Drift

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We learn about Gavin. (and also introduce the past Danvin I never planned for, and uh if you like Danvin this is probs gonna hurt)

Life had not always been kind to Gavin Free, in fact, up until he was 14 life had been pretty hard. He’d been pale, thin, and tattooless; none of which gained him many friends. Dan had been the exception, as he was to most things like friendship boundaries and the unspoken we-are-boys-we-do-not-share-a-bed sleepover rule. However, besides Dan it was just fact that Gavin didn’t have many friends, ergo he didn’t have many girlfriends. At the time he hadn’t been bothered; most girls didn’t even make him look twice, unlike when Dan had started filling out and getting fit. But just because he didn’t notice didn’t mean other people didn’t.

 

Boys that never talked to him had started to comment on it when he’d never been with someone at 15. They’d called him a poof and shirt-lifter and he’d stayed quiet. They put notes in his locker or drew dicks on his things and he hadn’t said a word. His mother had tried to talk to him about how he was becoming more drawn inward, about how he never left his room, but he was worried she’d look at him with her tightened lips and tell him he couldn’t be her son anymore. The one person who knew was Dan, and he’d been blessedly quiet.

 

That was until he’d gotten in a fight over it, anyway. Dan had always been quite bigger than most kids, and his demeanor hadn’t always been as calm. The first time Dan had gone after one of their schoolmates for ragging on Gavin he’d broken three bones in his hand and been put on ages of probation by his mum. Gavin had been in a righteous fury, refusing to talk to the other boy for weeks; Dan had accepted all of these punishments with calm, only angering Gavin even further. They’d sat down over tea and talked(yelled) it out, the fight promptly ending when Dan in a quiet whisper had said: “there is nothing I wouldn’t do for you, B.”

 

And so Gavin turned a blind eye to every black eye that Dan got, saying nothing and offering no sympathy. They refused to talk about how Gavin’s things always smelled a bit of dumpster no matter how much Febreze was sprayed on them, and neither one spoke of their tattoos or lack thereof. They instead talked about school work, whatever girl Dan was dating, or the newest video game. That pattern continued until Gavin got his first tattoo.

 

It had been hot for England, sticky, gross, and almost unbearable. Gavin had consequently slept with no covers, so when he woke up on his 17th birthday with a splotch of ink on his ankle he’d found out almost immediately. It had been a camera, not a polaroid, but a professional looking one, worth more than his whole house probably.  When he’d shown Dan the other boy had laughed and said he’d woke up with the same one last week. Hs birthday present that year had been the removal of his virginity-- which Dan had asked for and cradled like something precious, so if Gavin cried you couldn’t have blamed him.

 

Just the next week his neighbor had asked both of them for a favor, that being to help him film with a new slow-motion camera.

 

~

 

Dan had been congenial about his move to Texas, but he for sure had not been happy. He’d run the risks by Gavin again, and again.  He’d shot some of his words under the belt like: “what if they don’t even like you B, you’re not that easy to get along with.” But he’d apologized later-- holding Gavin close like he’d done years before, kissing the scrunch of his brow with tender eyes. Gavin understood, knew that this was a sort of goodbye for them even though they both swore up and down it wasn’t.  Dan talked about the military grade rifle on his bicep and told Gavin that it was his destiny to be a soldier, but Gavin had tensed and it wasn’t brought up again until Gavin was in America.

 

“B! Bloody hell it’s been ages!” Gavin smiled the one where his eyes squinted at the corners and Dan took a sharp inhale before replying.

 

“Yeah right B, it’s been a few weeks you knob.” Dan smiled but frowned again quickly, “look B, i’ve uh, i’ve got news.”

 

“You do? That’s top, get it out then!” Gavin was still all the  infectious energy that Dan missed, the green of eyes bright with joy that took ages to come round.

 

“Well, i’ve been stationed in Iraq.” A quiet silence followed. Gavin went from bright joy and sun-- like the one that had imprinted itself to Dan’s hip when they were 10 and barely spoke-- to erie, desolate quiet. His mouth opened and closed a few times but no sound came. Dan wrung his hands together, “B? You alright there?”

 

“You’re going to ask if i’m alright? Dammit Daniel! You can’t just bugger off to Iraq-- people need you! I need you, you tosspot! What? Did you think i’d congratulate you? ‘Oh wow Daniel you’ve decided to put your life on the line and die for a country we used to wish to leave? Thats bloody fantastic-- tip top daniel, bloody fantastic.” Gavin drew a deep breath, and with the exhale his shoulders hunched, “I think i’d should go. I love you, B.”

 

“I love you too, B.” Before anything else could be said Dan’s screen had closed, and his hands grappled onto his face, shaking. He hadn’t expected a party, or even joy at all. Yet, there was still a bit of ten year old boy in him, the one that wanted to kiss every bruise Gavin had and tell him that he was the sun. Dan exited from his chair and fell into bed, heart heavy with things unsaid.

 

~

Gavin knew he was being off. All his forced happiness couldn’t mask the fact that all he was truly worried about was Dan. Whether he was still in England, if he could ever forgive Gavin for being such a tit. Geoff had already cornered him, told him to knock it the fuck off, but he’d subdued when Gavin only smiled sadly and said he’d try. Michael, beautiful boy Michael had looked at him for a long moment before deciding to say nothing. Gavin wasn’t sure if he’d felt relief or melancholy at that, but how could he explain if the boy had asked? ‘Oh yeah sorry i’m a acting like a twat its just my ex boyfriend who I thought i was in love with might die and the only reason i’m not on a plane back to England right now is because i’m in love with you now.’ Right. Brilliant plan. Gavin rolled his eyes before returning to his editing.

 

Michael and him had hit it off spectacularly, with only a few anger related bumps. Michael was fit, passionate, and funny. Not to mention he was covered in some of the most beautiful tattoos Gavin had ever seen. It seemed that every day Michael came in with a new piece of art, the most recent a small kitty on the branch of his thumb. It had caused rounds of laughter within the AH office, those of which had only continued when Gavin had shown his flower crown ink that graced the back of his neck. Michael had smiled gratefully though, and that was all that mattered.

  
Gavin had been almost angry the week before when he’d discovered his feelings, but after seeing Ray and Joel neck at each other in plain sight days later his worries had ceased. It was irrational but he still harbored the fear of homophobia; especially without Dan here to protect him. The thought of Dan’s bloody knuckles and many split lips sent Gavin into a deeper black cloud, and he edited silently for the rest of the day. No one bothered to approach him, and he missed the worried looks that Michael sent his way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOW!!! All of you guys are so great, its honestly awesome to read all of your comments! Also I apologize for this being pretty AU as far as the RT/Slow-mo guys timeline is concerned


	4. ah shit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael is an idiot.

Michael giggled as Gavin’s squeals were heard from behind him. Geoff had suggested they do something to cheer Gavin up, and he’d only protested for a minute for giving in. It was working beautifully, Gavin hadn’t stopped giving a hundred watt smile the entire afternoon. They’d decided on go-carts because it would be fun for all of them and wouldn’t involve too much talking, which they both knew Gavin wasn’t up for. He’d been amiable when they’d kidnapped him from his desk, and that went to ecstatic when they arrived at the track. Probably because Gavin was like eight years old, but you know.

Completing his final lap and coming in first Michael gave a loud yell of victory and threw his hands in the air after pulling over. Gavin came next, then Geoff. They gave their boss loving ribbing for his loss and got ice-cream before heading home.  Michael had already established that he was sleeping over, earning a surprised smile from Gavin when he’d inquired why they weren’t dropping Michael off. Geoff had rolled his eyes when they continued to grin at one another, grumbling to himself about them being idiots.

When they pulled into the driveway Gavin bounced(yes, bounced) from the vehicle, jittery on his feet as he waited for his boy. Said boy laughed as he was tugged from the car into the other mans room with nothing but a shout for Geoff to leave them alone. Gavin was rambling about something, but Michael was more focused on the hands that pressed into his skin like hot irons, sending electricity up his arms. Gavin didn’t seem to feel the same, because he’d dropped Michael’s arm no problem and sat on his bed.

“So whaddya wanna do then micoo?” Gavin laid across his bed, hands above him, shirt riding up and eyes closed. His breaths were even and slow; his smile still present. Michael’s heart contracted beneath his ribs and his brain(and dick) insisted he do Gavin instead of anything else.

“Ha-ha, ha. Oh you know whatever. Whatever is fine with me.” Michael laughed uncomfortably. He wrung his hands together and settled unto the edge of the bed looking around. “Well, uh, we could talk about what's been bothering you?” Michael turned to face Gavin as his weight shifted, and was met with a forlorn face.

“Ah, it’s nothin’ just things cross the pond is all.” Gavin shrugged, and he laid back down. “I’m worried for a friend of mine. He, I don’t know, he thinks he’s better off somewhere dangerous than somewhere I know he’s safe.”

“Do your parents know you’re safe?”

“What the bollock has that got to do with anything?”

“Just-- do your parents, your brother, hell does who-ever-the-fuck know you’re safe? Over here, I mean.”

“Well, no? I guess not for sure.”

Taking the opportunity, Michael scooted closer, eyes locked onto Gavin;s own. “Right, but they know this is what you want to do. So they don’t say shit, well, they don’t say much shit. Whoever we’re talking about needs to make his own way. I can tell you care about him,” Michael felt his throat tighten slightly. “We all saw how messed up you were about it. Are you--you know?”

“Me and Dan? No! I mean, we have done, but not since we were younger!” At Gavin’s quick dismissal Michael’s jealousy slightened partially.  He knew that this was stupid. That Gavin was stupid, but he was also stupid, so. He couldn’t be blamed for what happened next.

They’d moved progressively closer as the talk wore on, and it was no trouble at all for Michael to lean in, after whispering a breathy _good_. Their lips met. No sparks, or fireworks, just the gentle press of Gavin’s wet mouth onto his. Heat seeped into his bones, and Michael braced himself over Gavin thoughtlessly. The lengths of their bodies met, and Gavin let out a gasp.

Gavin, was not stupid. He may come off a bit ditzy, but he knew what Michael’s eye tattoo meant. He knew his own damn eyes when he saw them. And the fucking cat was his fucking cat. Gavin was not an idiot. Nor was Michael. However, Gavin knew Michael was a bit dense about the meaning of his own tattoos. He pulled away.

“Are you sure about this?” Michael’s lips were red and wet, tempting and beautiful. Gavin rubbed the tip of his shoulder and tried not to laugh.

Michael gave him an annoyed look. “Sure about what?”

“Us. Michael. Team Nice Dynamite?” Gavin could feel the air in the room changing shape from the passion that it had become.

“Gavin, I’m not-- we were just fucking around. You don’t have to get so attached.” What was he saying. Abort. Abort. “I don’t have to marry you to fuck you do I?” Jesus Christ. Michael was an idiot, and Gavin’s face proved it. He’d gone from open and pliant to cold and tight lipped.

“Right. Course. I think you should go Michael.” Gavin swallowed around the lump in his throat. He didn’t know it would feel like this-- the iron grip around his lungs tightening until he felt he was wheezing.

“Gavin? are you--”

“I think,” Gavin turned around, away from the others concern, “you should go now.”

Michael stood, feeling spectacularly shitty. This had gone from Gavin pretty eyed and submissive to his mouth and hands to fucking terrible in the span of minutes. Michael was a fucking idiot. He knew that. He should probably say that. Like out loud.  “I’ll see you at work,” he said instead, practically running to Geoff.

 **  
**The ride home was quiet after he threw off Geoff’s attempts to question him. He’d white-knuckled the steering wheel the rest of the way, and Michael wallowed in his misery. His life really fucking sucked sometimes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry??


	5. Daddy Geoff's Comfort Zone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things get a bit complicated. Michael is an idiot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A HUGE THANK YOU TO EVERYONE WHO REVIEWED AND GAVE KUDOS!!! There was only going to be five chapters but this seemed to stand on it's own so there will be one more. I hope you guys like it! 
> 
>  
> 
> (Gavin's flower crown tattoo is for millie just btw)

When Michael arrived at his apartment he felt like dying. His arms throbbed, his head was foggy, and overall he knew he hurt Gavin. However, he was scared. He was coward. Kissing Gavin had been amazing, but the thought of them being together shook him. Michael wasn't sure if he'd ever connected with someone so fast, and taking that to another level so soon....

It felt like jumping before he saw what was past the edge. But still, he didn't feel any better now; he felt worse. He ached, his limbs were heavy, his skin felt like it needed to be rubbed away. A shower, Michael decided, a shower would help. 

But as Michael stripped his clothes to get in the spray he didn't notice the fading color of his tattoos. When he lathered his body Michael's brain was too scattered to realize his eye was just that, no ocean, no leaves. Michael went to bed with his limbs still aching and his tattoos beginning to recede.

He got up for work, looked himself in the eye and sighed. He wouldn't avoid the other boy, not with how horribly the brit must be feeling. He would face this like a man. Tell Gavin that they would have to stay friends, and that they should put the kiss behind them. 

However, laying in bed Michael's mind couldn't help but wander to the feeling of Gavin's mouth, the plush if his lips and rasp of his stubble. The quiet hitches in his breaths when their tongues met. The way Gavin had submitted fully to the pressure of his hands, content to be manhandled; his mouth the same way, wet and open to Michael's whim. He couldn't help but picture that submissiveness elsewhere, if Gavin would yield to his body and do what he said. 

But Michael couldn't, wouldn't, stay on those thoughts. Gavin was just his friend and that was the way it was going to stay. Once again unknown to the man, the tattoos that had began to come back and recolor dimmed as Michael denied his feelings. 

-.-.-.-.-

Gavin tried to be positive. He'd went to bed hoping they could talk about it during their lunch break. That he could talk some sense into Michael. But when he'd woke up for work that morning with his shoulder aching he knew something was wrong. Gavin had known before he ripped his shirt in his haste to get it off; he'd known, but knowing wasn't really like seeing. The shape of light pink lips that'd graced his shoulder was now a fallacy, a mere outline. 

With a pained cry Gavin rushed to Geoff, babbling and pulling at the mans clothes. "Gavin, Gavin, buddy hold on. You've gotta slow down, bud." Geoff extricated the brit's hands from his shirt and sat them both down at the table. 

"It's almost gone Geoff," Gavin hicced, "Michael doesn't want me, even though he's supposed too, and now--" 

"What?" Geoff's voice had reached the low tone of rage and Gavin stopped talking immediately. "This is why you sent Michael home? He rejected you?" 

Gavin was silent for a few seconds before he took a deep, steadying breath. "He didn't want a relationship. Just to you know, fool around." 

Geoff went pinched with anger. "You are going to stay home. Me and Michael are going to have a talk. I will be sending him here to fix this shit he's done." 

Gavin wanted to argue, he opened and closed his mouth a few times to do so but stayed quiet. "Okay Geoff. Thank you." Gavin's voice was high and tight with emotion, and he threw his arms around the older man. If Michael never came around he was still going to be happy. He had his family here, and their art on his body would never go away. He would always belong in Geoff's arms and home, a fact he found solace in before heading back to bed.


	6. Finding Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The final chapter

Geoff was not a happy camper. He exuded the scary calmness that paired with true anger, and Michael was facing the forefront of it. Geoff stood at his desk with straight rigid shoulders and clenched fists, and although his face seemed relaxed Michael was not comforted. He still felt residual hurt from what he’d done to Gavin, both mental and physical. His entire body seemed to pulse with dull pain, and it only worsened as Geoff pulled him from his desk, voice deceptively light as he told Michael they needed to talk.

Geoff pulled him into one of their rarely used meeting rooms, its air stale and walls bare. He still had a firm grip on Michael’s arm, and only grasped tighter when Michael tried to shake him off. “Now Michael, I don’t know what the fuck you think you’re doing, but it needs to stop.” 

Michael tried to interrupt but the older man’s free hand clamped against his windpipe before he could even exhale. “Everybody in this building loves Gavin. I love Gavin. I love Gavin a lot. He’s kinda my boy don’t you think?” Michael nodded hastily, his pulse ratcheting upward. His mind raced, but he didn't know where exactly Geoff was going with this. 

“I love Gavin so much that seeing him hurt, that hurts me bud. And as a father, when someone hurts the things you love… you have this instinct, Michael.” Geoff’s hands tightened on his throat and arm cutting off the flow of his blood and air. Michael's hand flew to grab at Geoff's wrist struggling to pull the offending hand off his windpipe. Michael started to see spots before the hands disappeared completely. 

“If you are not out of this building and in your car to go to my boy and fix him I can’t promise I’ll stop next time Michael. You have five minutes.” With that Geoff took his leave, stalking away. Michael’s pulse was still elevated, and he was getting a headache trying to wrap his head around the threat he’d been given. That and the fact that Geoff had acted very much like a mob-boss, which should’ve been ridiculous, but instead was terrifying. Michael stood still for a few minutes in shock, regaining his breath. Suddenly the boy rushed into action, not bothering to close anything he’d opened for work, just to grab his things and leave.  
~.~.~.~.~  
Gavin woke to loud knocking, and his head pounded in response. He instantly checked his tattoos, but they were still faint and dull. The brit frowned, sadness clutching at his veins, rushing through them all the way into his toes. He got up anyway, yanking the door open with a sour expression. “Micool?”

Michael stood still. His heart seized in his chest, and he fumbled around his words, tongue too large for his mouth. “Hey. Gavvy. Geoff-- he, well he didn’t explain shit, but he sent me here for you.” Michael’s pain eased, his head cleared. Stood in front of him was a weary, beautiful boy with red rimmed eyes. Gavin was shirtless, in his sleep pants, and usually Michael’s brain would divulge into sexy thoughts, but right now the only thing he could think of was pulling Gavin in and telling him everything would be alright.

“Oh.” Gavin’s faced stayed closed off, but he stepped away and allowed Michael inside. Gavin stayed silent before leading them into the living room, sitting down and wrapping himself in a blanket. Michael sat next to him, touching their knees; Gavin however was having none of it, he scooted down the couch and turned to Michael with a stern face. “What’re you doing here Micool? Goeff told you to come see me, is that it? If you-- you would’ve-- should've noticed! If Geoff had to tell you to come see me, then--”

“Should’ve noticed what Gav? You have to tell me shit! I can’t play this guessing game, I’m not a mind reader Gavin! I’m sorry I hurt you, and I should’ve made myself clear with what I wanted, but you can’t throw me out of your life.”

“I’m throwing you out?! That’s bloody rich coming from you! If you weren’t stuck neck deep in denial you’d be able to see that you’re the one pushing me away! Bloody hell, i’ve spent ages trying to find you-- wondering what kissing you was like, but you didn’t seem to notice that i’m the one you’ve been looking for… Micool, I don’t understand you.”

Despite wanting to plunge headfirst into the arguement Michael stayed calm. "What do you mean I'm the one you've been waiting for?" He was still, placid. The pieces of the puzzle his life had become we're slotting into place, slowly. 

"Michael the week before I moved to this country this," he gestured to his now revealed shoulder, "appeared on me." Michael looked on quietly, his mouth parted in wonder, the same expression painted into Gavin's skin. Gavin pulled on Michael's shirt, exposing his tattoo. "This eye? Micool, that's my eye. I know you don't care but that means something to me. I spent so long thinking that I was nothing, worried about starting over, and you--your lips gave me hope that id have someone over here." Gavin's fingers traced across the eye, it's leaves faintly there but quickly, unbeknownst to Michael, returning under his touch. 

"Gavin. Gavin I..." Michael was overcome with awe at his own idiocy, Gavin's touch sending butterflies about his stomach. "Can I touch it?" He asked but didn't wait for an answer; Michael's touch was firm against Gavin's skin, his fingers bleeding red life back into the skin of the tattoo. Michael grabbed at Gavin, probably hurting him in his own haste to get the other boy in his lap. 

"I," he started, "have been a massive idiot." He framed Gavin's face with his hands. "I'm so fucking sorry. I sorry I made our tattoo fade, I'm sorry I put you through hell, god Gavin-- I love you. I'm an idiot and it should've told you sooner but I was scared okay? I've never gotten along with someone so fast and I didn't want to mess that up but I did it anyway I'm such a fuck up I'm sorry--" 

Gavin smiled, pressing his lips close to Michael's, just so they were barely touching. "You're rambling luv. I forgive you, and I love you too Micool." He kissed Michael quietly, sweetly, with no intent and it felt like finding his home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ....yeah. It's over guys, thank you for reading, thank you for bookmarking, thank you for your comments. The feedback for this has been amazing and I can't wait to write more sappy stuff for these video gaming idiots. My tumblr (dammitb) is ALWAYS open for prompts and general tomfoolery/chitchat. I LOVE YOU *smooches* hope you enjoyed this fic  <3


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